


but the ending is the same every damn time

by kay_emm_gee



Series: the kids aren't alright (The 100 tumblr prompts) [74]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Car Sex, F/M, Hook-Up, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5662867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was fucked from the minute she leaned over in the seat of the red convertible he had borrowed from the props department and kissed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but the ending is the same every damn time

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "You should definitely write a Bellarke fic based of Halsey's song "Strange Love", I think it fits them perfectly (I think maybe from Bellamy's perspective?? But it's totally up to you!!!!)"
> 
> This is a prequel to my Wildest Dreams-inspired actors fic Always In Hindsight :)

He was fucked from the minute she leaned over in the seat of the red convertible he had borrowed from the props department and kissed him. Her lips, wet from the gin she had been sipping from his flask, coaxed his open with ease, too much ease. Clarke, with her sharp words and soft curves, was dangerous, making him more drunk than any liquor ever could. Under the starry desert sky, with the top down, he had lost all his control, all his reserve, thrown every rule out of the window. Bellamy was so gone for this woman, and he didn’t know how to slow them down from their hundred-mile-hour pace.

He had been reckless with her, driving too close to the edge of what they could be if things were different. Never had he slept with a co-star while filming, while having to see her every day, while having to run lines with her in sweats and film with her in next to nothing, edging too close to what they did behind closed doors for his own comfort. 

Except Clarke moaned only his name, _his_  name, when they were alone–in her trailer, in his dressing room, and now over the console of a red convertible.

“Fuck,” he muttered as she climbed over into his lap, grinding against him.

“That’s the plan,” she whispered against his mouth with swollen lips.

Bellamy bit her collarbone in retaliation, making her gasp. When he shucked her shirt off, her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, though her eyes were shadowed. 

“Don’t worry,” he said as he unhooked her bra. “I made sure we weren’t followed. The paparazzi won’t find us up here.”

“They better not,” she growled, then bit his earlobe. Heat shot straight to his groin, and his hips jerked up uncontrollably. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned again, hurriedly slipping his hand under her skirt.

She sighed as he touched her core, and then he lost himself in a haze of heat and moistness, strokes and touches. Moans and grunts were muffled by their mouths clashing, hard and hot and heady. After Clarke cried out her high, she fumbled for his button and zipper, and he fumbled for a condom. Then she was around him, sinking down with a smug roll of her hips. It didn’t take long for them to peak together–it never did, with her. 

He was _so_  fucked.

“Holy shit,” she sighed and slumped against him, as spent as he was. 

He choked out a laugh against the clammy skin of her shoulder, rubbing her arms. His fingers ghosted over goosebumps, because the night was turning chilly. Without hesitating, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer as she shivered against him.

“Can we blast the heat on the way back?” She asked drowsily. 

“Whatever the hell you want, princess.”

Clarke groaned, but then she nuzzled against him. The quick press of her lips against his neck made his chest tighten, his stomach clench. So tender, so gentle, a sharp contrast to the messiness of what they had just done.

And that was the problem with Clarke. She had him turned every which way around, and he could never predict what she would do next. 

He was _so fucked._

Later though, as they coasted along through the night, the dry, desert air blowing through his hair, he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything beyond the feel of Clarke’s warm fingers intertwined with his. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr (kay-emm-gee)!


End file.
